The Wandering Elf
by ShapelessThings
Summary: She was remarkably curious, this elf, and she'd decided that an adventure across Middle Earth would suit a wanderer like her just fine. A fan-fiction inspired by The Hobbit. Kili/OC (This story was previously titled 'A Tale of Ice and Flame')
1. Ice and Flame

**I don't own The Hobbit (crawls into corner and cries). I hope you enjoy reading! :)**

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Aravanna Dorthorian (more concisely called Ara) had a terrible habit of not quite ending up where she intended to go. She was a wanderer, you see, and contrary to the belief of her elven kin, a wanderer was _not _a bad thing to be. Still, she was an elf, and not just any kind of elf, but a _high _elf, who happened to be the most stoic and humdrum elves of them all. High elves were fair, calculating, graceful creatures, and they were the most practiced healers of all the elf orders. Ara, as you may have already guessed, fell short in all of these areas, and because she possessed instead a great number of other, _undesirable _attributes, her kin very often called her impulsive, or scatterbrained, or simply dimwitted.

I, however, would like to sort out a few details concerning Ara right this moment (although you may feel free to contest these points later on). Firstly, she was not _dreadfully _impulsive, only marginally so. Secondly, she was only _slightly _scatterbrained, and that was only when she was especially excited, which, admittedly, was the case more often than not. Lastly, she was most certainly _not _dimwitted. Not. One. Bit. In one very simple, perhaps inadequate word, Ara was curious. She was curious about animals and the world around her, which she knew to expand much further than the borders of her home in Rivendell. She was curious about a mountain of other things still, but those you'll discover as I continue the story.

What I will tell you _now,_ though, is that her inquisitive nature was not the only oddity about her. Aside from her fair skin, she was also quite different in appearance than the high elves of Rivendell. Where their hair was either very light or very dark, Ara's hair was neither light _nor _dark. In the sunshine it appeared to be a deep red, with a glimmer here and there of gold, but at night one could easily call it black, or at least a very dark brown. I suppose in modern terms her hair would be called auburn, and, although the color is fairly common now, in Middle Earth, and _especially_ among the elves, it was a strange sight indeed. It grew down to her waist, but she kept it in a single long braid down her back, as to not bother the other elves with the queerness of it.

Also, her eyes were not stark blue like her kin, but the color of citrine stone, only a few shades lighter than the color of her hair in sunlight.

_And_, as if her eyes and hair weren't enough, Ara was also undeniably, markedly, _nonsensically _short. She was half the height of an average-sized elf, and, since Rivendell was built to accommodate creatures twice her size, she had to do quite a bit of hopping, and neck-straining, and, worst of all, standing on tip-toe.

All in all, Ara made for a pretty poor elf.

Anyway, now that you understand some of her abnormalities, I think it's time to return to the aforementioned business of wandering. She wandered every day (twice on a bad day and thrice on a good one), but there was one day specifically that landed her in a particularly precarious position. She'd been on her way to a healing examination that she'd rescheduled twice already, when, through the arches of one of the many walkways in Rivendell, she'd spotted a flock of deer racing into the valley from the Yellow Hills. As you may remember, Ara was remarkably curious about the workings of animals, and so she approached the arch, and, standing on her already-aching toes, intently observed the deer clamber to what she assumed they thought was safety.

After a moment, she began to hear a strange noise over the sound of the roaring waterfalls and rushing rivers around her. Turning her head to the side so that her ears better faced the sound, she listened more closely.

"Is that…_howling_?" she wondered. "Oh! Oh, my! It is! It's howling! There are _wolves_ in the hills! _Eek!_ "

Her examination forgotten, she raced back to her chamber. Off went her lavender gown, delicate slippers, and silver jewelry, and on flew her brown trousers, leather boots, and olive long-sleeved shirt with the alarmingly numerous amount of pockets. Into these pockets she placed a few small blades, just in case she'd need them.

I feel as though I should explain why Ara, who shouldn't strike you as a terribly violent person, would possess weapons. All the elves in Rivendell were trained, men and women, and though most appreciated archery and swordsmanship, Ara preferred throwing knives. There are a couple reasons for this weapon choice, one being that she was a lousy archer, and the second being that she was terrified of killing anything up-close. She wasn't a warrior by even the broadest definition of the word, but from a distance, when she was calm and had time enough to focus properly, she had average aim. She had many qualms about the killing, and maiming, and otherwise unpleasant-bodily-harming of living creatures, but when it came down to kill-or-be-killed, she'd always chosen survival. I suppose you could say that was one of the scant characteristics she'd inherited from elves.

When Ara had collected everything she required, she raced down into the valley. Nobody noticed her, though that shouldn't surprise you in the least; high elves were so preoccupied with keeping their backs straight and their chins up that they seldom bothered to look down.

There were very many secret passages in and out of Rivendell, some opened only by words spoken in elven tongue, others hidden behind rocks and in walls of twisted ivy. She took one of the latter routes now, following the sound of the wolves' howls. She didn't realize, of course, that these were not _ordinary_ wolves, but very dangerous wargs. Wargs were triple the size of a large wolf and belonged to foul-looking orcs, who were just as lethal.

Yet, thinking on it now, I suppose that even _if_ Ara knew these facts, she still would have wanted to see for herself, though she might've been a bit more careful about it. When she was in the hills, where the yellow grass grew tall and was interrupted only by large rocks, she simply snuck from stone to stone until she was a fair distance away from the passage she'd taken to get there.

She saw many silhouettes in the distance, and, deciding they were too far away for her liking, she snuck ever closer. In her ignorance of the danger she was so eagerly placing herself in, she'd failed to note that she was now far _too _close, for the figures were barreling through the grass with speed much faster than she could run.

As the figures become much less distant, she made out that the wargs with the orcs astride their backs were chasing, of all things, a wizard on a sled pulled by Rhosgobel Rabbits. The wargs were snarling and snapping their powerful jaws, and the orcs had their swords and spears aimed straight at him.

Ara, sensing finally that this was most certainly _not _a sensible situation for her to be in, made her mind up to return home. She'd ventured too far from the pathway she'd originally taken, but she knew of two other passages. One was hidden between two great rocks, but it was near the center of the hills, and she'd be damnedif she was going to risk running _there_. The other, more logical choice was near the outskirts of the hills, and could be opened only by a special elven incantation.

The problem was, however, that the passage was two stones away, and there was quite a bit of distance between the stone at which she stood and the stone to which she needed to go.

"Alright, Ara," she said, breathing deeply, for she'd become relatively frightened, "you are very capable of doing this. Come on, then. On three. One…two…_three!_"

If anyone had happened to glance over in her direction, they would've seen Ara, with her hands outstretched and her knees lifting high, looking very much like someone had stuck a hot poker up her behind as she ran to the next stone.

"Good. Very good," she gasped, her back resting against the rock. "One more to go. One…two…_three!_"

This time, her foot caught in a tangle of grass and, with a high-pitched squeal, she nearly bashed her head into the second rock. The snarls of the wargs were merely a mile from her now, though in her terror she imagined that they were right on the other side of her rock, plotting to tear her apart with teeth the length of her arm. She'd been seconds away from placing her hand on the stone and reciting the incantation required to reveal its passage, when, in the very corner of her eye, she spotted movement from somewhere else in the hills.

She didn't know it, but the movement she'd seen was the result of thirteen dwarves and one hobbit. All she'd perceived at the time was that a company of exceedingly small creatures was scuttling from rock to rock in a fashion not unlike how she'd just been. Her eyes had widened to the size of soup bowls and her mouth had hung open, for she'd never before encountered creatures who were the same size as her. Naturally, she'd concluded that they surely were elves like her, so she just _had _to meet them, because they would prove that perhaps she wasn't so abnormal after all.

Of course, they weren't elves in the least bit—again I'll tell you they were dwarves and a hobbit—but she was quite content to think differently. The one in front with long dark hair and big furs was called Thorin, and he was clearly the leader of them all, for wherever he pointed, the rest of the company went.

They'd been running back and forth across the hills, hoping that Radagast the Brown (who was the fellow on the sled) would distract the wargs and orcs long enough for Thorin and his company to escape. Try as he did, however, Radagast was flying across the hills so haphazardly that he would unintentionally lead the wargs near the dwarves, so that they constantly had to circle back to where they'd just come. This happened so often that the whole ordeal had begun to resemble a dangerous, disorganized game of hide-and-seek.

Once, when Radagast had circled mere feet away from the dwarves and hobbit, a warg jumped onto the rock they were hiding behind, which, coincidentally happened to be where the hidden pass was. Ara gasped, believing without a doubt that they'd be discovered and torn to shreds, but instead, she heard a _thwack_, and with a yelp, the warg fell dead from atop the stone.

Unfortunately, the others had heard its dying cry. Pointing to the warg's carcass, an orc said something in a very guttural language and, all at once, every warg collapsed in on that area. The company realized that hiding was now futile and formed a wide circle back-to-back, though even from where she was sticking her head out over her rock, Ara saw that the little hobbit was trembling.

"Hold your ground!" shouted Thorin.

The archer of the group began to shoot, but despite the fact that he hit every one of his marks and the rest of the group was fighting well (aside from the hobbit), they were simply outnumbered. If they didn't think up a better strategy soon, they'd surely be picked off one-by-one.

Then, suddenly, Ara saw the tip of a gray hat poke up from the pathway in between the stones. "This way, you fools!" a booming voice said, and, one after the other, the hobbit and the dwarves leapt into the passage. Thorin stood to the side, ensuring that each dwarf entered safely until, finally, only he and the archer remained.

The archer had been very valiantly holding the wargs back, but since he was now isolated from the others, the wargs were all starting to descend upon him. Two of the beasts came barreling at him at once, one from the front and one from the back. It was impossible for him to shoot them both, and Thorin was occupied with felling his own wargs.

"Thorin!" he called, and he'd sounded so desperateand so sure that Thorin could help him that Ara had felt a stab of sympathy that struck deeper than it should have, considering these people were utter strangers.

"Kili!" shouted Thorin, and under the power in his voice, Ara heard genuine fear and distress. _I_ know where that distress and fear stemmed from, and perhaps _you_ do as well, but at the time Ara didn't. All she knew was that she'd never expressed concern that strongly for anyone, and nobody had ever expressed it for her.

She made a decision then, that to this day she will tell you was the most intelligent decision she'd ever made, though in that moment it made her dizzy and nauseous.

She pulled a throwing knife from her pocket, and right when the archer shot down the warg in front of him, she hurled it at the one behind him. Twisting through the air, it flew. She'd been aiming for its neck, but didn't have the heart to see if her aim had been true. She'd heard the sound of its contact, and that was all she needed. Crouching down, she placed her left hand on the stone and said, "_darn llie amin, nesh amin aul ant_," which, in a more common tongue, roughly translates to, "_reveal yourself to me I plead, for I find myself in dire need!"_

Where her hand was, the rock glowed blue, and just when it cracked open to reveal the tunnel beneath it, she heard elven war horns and the thumping of horses' hooves.

"Oh, _no_," she groaned.

If you've ever snuck out of your home or have just otherwise gone some place you are not allowed to go, and have had the misfortune of seeing your guardian stroll into that very same place, perhaps you can empathize with Ara when I tell you that, for a split second, she was more terrified than she'd been when that archer almost got torn apart by wargs.

She hopped into the tunnel, the rock resealing itself behind her, and stumbled through its darkness back to Rivendell. She was conflicted, mind you, because usually when she returned from wandering, she'd sneak back into Rivendell, slip into her room, re-don her previously discarded clothing, and pretend she'd never left at all. This time she hadn't enough time to do all that, for the dwarves would be entering the valley any minute, and if she wasn't there at once, she'd miss it!

As such, she decided she'd stay dressed as she was and hope for the best. The sun was setting in the valley, thus many of the elves were inside enjoying their supper, save for the ones guarding the entrance. She crept behind one of the tall, marble statues of great elves from the past, not too far from where the dwarves would be, but again, too close, and waited.

It didn't take long; she soon heard the thumping of many footsteps. When she peaked around the statue's legs and saw Gandalf's brown staff and grey pointed hat at the very front of the troop, she positively _beamed_. Gandalf was known for visiting Rivendell often. _Gandalf_, with his fireworks and smoke rings of all different colors, shapes, and sizes.

The dwarves each wore variously-colored tunics that went down to their knees and were held in at the hip with a thick brown leather belt. Tucked into very large fur boots were loose trousers they wore underneath the tunics. They all carried swords, though some carried secondary weapons, such as axes and war hammers. The hobbit was more simply dressed in a maroon overcoat, olive waistcoat with a formal white shirt underneath, and brown trousers. The trousers cut off at his ankles, revealing shoeless, hairy feet that were even larger than the dwarves'.

"I must speak with Lord Elrond," Gandalf said to a guard in the no-nonsense manner for which he was infamous.

"Lord Elrond is not here," the guard responded.

"Not here? Where is he?"

Just then, Ara heard the war horn again. The elves had returned from the Yellow Hills, and had come thundering down into the valley. With a shout, the dwarves raised their weapons and stood back-to-back. "Close ranks!" commanded Thorin, anticipating another battle when the horses began to circle them. The dwarves held their weapons up in warning, but the elves paid them no mind.

"Mithrandir." Lord Elrond greeted the wizard with a little smile.

"Lord Elrond," Gandalf said fondly, embracing his friend once he'd dismounted his horse. "Where have you been?"

"One of our elves has gone missing." Ara cringed. "We heard the wargs on the hills and thought we should search for her. Strange for orcs to come so close to our borders. Something, or some_one _has drawn them near."

"That someone would be us, I'm afraid," Gandalf said, gesturing to Thorin and his company.

Thorin, with quite an impressive glower, stepped forward from the group.

"Welcome, Thorin, son of Thrain," said Elrond.

"I don't believe we have met," the dwarf said in an agitated tone.

"You have your grandfather's bearing. I knew him well, when he reigned as King Under the Mountain."

This only seemed to further irritate Thorin, for he replied, "Funny, he made no mention of _you_."

The atmosphere had grown quite tense after that, and sensing this, Gandalf stepped between the two, sparing a quick glare at Thorin.

"Tell me, my friend," Gandalf said, "which elf is it that you were searching for?"

Elrond attempted to make his voice light, but Ara heard the exasperation in it when he replied, "Must you even ask?"

Gandalf, apparently hearing the elf's exasperation as well, chuckled. "I'm sure she will show up in no time at all, my friend. You know how she is."

They continued to chat amongst themselves. Ara wanted to run out and thank the wizard for trying to lighten Elrond's mood, but instead she smiled and mused quietly, "I can't believe that was _Gandalf's _hat I saw in the hills. I had no idea!"

Suddenly, everyone fell silent.

"I told you we would find her soon enough," said Gandalf. "Aravanna, my dear, come out from your hiding place, please."

She poked her head out from behind the marble, and, all at once, heads twisted, and tilted, and turned so that innumerable pairs of eyes were focused on her.

"Er…hello!" she squeaked.

Although Elrond appeared calm, she imagined that a lecture was coming together in his mind, and that later on she would be in for a very stern talking to. Moving to stand beside him, she sheepishly glanced up and mouthed, 'Sorry'.

To Gandalf she said, grinning broadly, "Hello, Gandalf! It's very good to see you alive and not eaten by wolves! Have you brought any fireworks?" and then, upon noticing Elrond's almost imperceptibly clenched jaw she stiffened her back, cleared her throat, and in a most formal tone amended, "I mean, welcome, Mithrandir."

"Yes," said Elrond. "I, too, am glad to see you in one piece, though I am curious to discover how Aravanna knew of your quarrel with the wargs."

As you probably suspect, he was _not _curious, for he already knew. This was his way of passive-aggressively telling Ara that, if she was trying to be secretive about where she'd spent her afternoon, she was doing a piss-poor job of it.

"Erm…well…you see…" she stuttered.

"I'm sure this will be a thrilling tale," interrupted Gandalf, "but you have before you thirteen hungry dwarves and one exhausted hobbit, so I hope it can wait until after supper!"

"Dwarves and a hobbit?" repeated Ara, disappointed. "I thought you might be elves like me!"

This earned her a loud uproar of protestations from the dwarves and a harsh glare from Thorin.

"No, lass," a dwarf wearing a hat with flaring ear flaps told her. "We're dwarves, I promise ye that."

"Oh," Ara said, a trifle sad.

Scanning over each and every dwarf, she saw two at the end who were watching her quite intently. One, with long blond hair and a mustache that hung in short braids on either side of his mouth, was regarding her with suspicious blue eyes. The other, with long brown hair, eyes of the same color, and dark stubble where a beard would be, looked quite amused. She saw the bow on his back and frowned, approaching him. Kili, Thorin had called him, if she remembered correctly, which, in case you were wondering, she did.

"How about you?" she asked him. "Are you _certain _you're not an elf?"

"Aye," he said proudly, and Ara thought he'd sounded fairly chipper, for someone who'd very nearly just been ripped apart by wargs. "Our ears are different. See?" He lifted up his hair and Ara saw that, yes, her ears were quite a bit pointer than his at the tips.

Still in denial that these creatures were not in any way related to her, Ara said, "But you haven't a beard and your hair doesn't have braids in it like everyone else's."

Suspicions abated, the blond one snickered, leaning his elbow on Kili's shoulder while he merrily watched the exchange.

"I don't have a beard because I'm an archer. Can't very well shoot a bow with a beard in the way, can you? And as for the braids, well…"

He'd clearly grown uncomfortable with the conversation and didn't know how to continue, but luckily for him he didn't have to.

"Are you sure you _are_ an elf?" interjected the blond one. "You're a wee one, if you are. I reckon you're only a bit taller than Master Bilbo, and he's a hobbit!"

"Yeah," Ara said, looking down at her feet. "I know."

Over her head Kili shot the blond dwarf a look, which only made him shrug. "That's alright, lass, being tall seems real inconvenient anyway. Makes you easier to spot in battle, it does. I'm Kili, this is my brother Fili, and the rest of the lot are called Gloin, Oin, Bifur, Bofur, Bombur, Dori, Nori, Ori, Dwalin, Balin, and Thorin." He helpfully pointed out each dwarf as he listed them. "What're you called?"

Still reeling over the pile of names she'd just been thrown, she answered, "Aravanna Dorthorian. I'd prefer if you called me Ara, though."

"Aravanna?" repeated the dwarf named Gloin. He had a thick reddish beard that flowed well passed his knees, and a bulbous nose. "How many a's are in that? Four? Four a's in one name! Excessive, don't ye think?"

"Well, _Gloin, _your name is not too far off from '_loin_', and only one letter away from '_groin_', so you've no room to talk!" she responded.

She'd thought she might have offended him, but after a brief moment of surprise, he released a great bark of laughter. "Right ye are, lass!" He good-naturedly clapped her on her shoulder, and she stumbled sideways into Kili. With his hands on her upper arms, he steadied her. Embarrassed, she mumbled apologies, though they were unnecessary, for when she looked up she saw that both Kili and Fili were chuckling.

This was something she'd soon discover about the dwarves; they were a very merry bunch. They were proud creatures, and could hold onto a grudge for _ages_, but they were also the first to laugh, loudly and with abandon.

"Well, if you've finished with introductions, I invite you to join us for the supper we'd been speaking of," Elrond said. "Come."

The dwarves shuffled forward until Thorin suddenly yelled, "Wait!" Even Ara, who knew the command hadn't been directed towards her, stilled. If you were her, you would've stopped, too. Thorin just had one of those voices, you know, the powerful, rumbling kind that seemed to fly into one's ear, echo off the walls of one's head, and never come back out again. "We must discuss it first."

The dwarves huddled together and began muttering amongst each other, forgetting that Ara was within earshot. She didn't mean to eavesdrop, she really didn't; she just couldn't help herself.

"Should we stay?" she heard one of the dwarves ask.

"They're elves. _Elves_, Thorin."

"Aye, ye know our feelings about them."

"Bloody untrustworthy lot, they are."

"I propose we eat, use the bathroom, then go."

Ara giggled, slapping a hand over her mouth when Kili glanced over his shoulder at her with his eyebrows raised. "Sorry," she whispered. "I'll just wait over _there_ instead."

She shuffled over to stand beside Bilbo and Gandalf, who was frowning at the dwarves. No doubt he would've said something to hurry them along, if Thorin hadn't stepped out from the huddle and said to Elrond, "Alright, then. Lead on."

"Thank _heavens_," breathed Bilbo. "If they said no, I think I might've wept."

He trudged on forward after the dwarves. Ara did as well, accidently bumping into Gandalf as she went. This might not have been a big deal, if Gandalf hadn't stiffened and glanced down at her inquisitively. "My dear girl," said the wizard. "Have you grown colder?"

Ara, her eyes wide, began to frantically rub her arms. "I don't know," she replied, distressed. "Have I?"

I realize that you've not been given enough context to understand those last two lines of dialogue, but you will soon enough. I'll tell you that it has something to do with Ara's oddities, and that it's the oddest oddity of them all. I'd like to embellish upon the subject, really I would, but I fear I've already given you enough information to fill a troll's belly, and it'd be very ill-mannered of me to burden you with even more!

Instead, I will leave you with this final bit about Ara on that day in Rivendell. She'd been extremely excited and enthralled, and understandably so, for she'd missed Gandalf very much, and had never seen so much as a lick of neither a hobbit nor a dwarf. However, even in all her fascination, she never imagined that she'd grow to care for the dwarves as much as she did, or that she'd become so attached to them. Most importantly, she never, _ever_, not even in her wildest daydreams, imagined that, as a result of her wandering habits, she'd end up joining the dwarves on a journey across Middle Earth that would end in ice and flame.


	2. A Broken Promise

Ara learned a few facts about dwarves very early on; besides each having a unique hairstyle and beard, they had _atrocious_ table manners. They shoveled food into their mouths with unwashed hands when they ate, dribbled wine onto their beards when they drank, and spewed out chewed bits of food when they laughed. Their etiquette would've made most elves cringe with disgust, but Ara absolutely _adored _it.

When they'd first arrived to the dining hall, Elrond had invited Thorin and Gandalf to sit with him at a separate, more private table. Bilbo and the remaining dwarves sat beside Ara and another elf.

Here's a little tidbit concerning this other elf. His name was Aris, and, if you asked Elrond, he'd tell you that Aris was the epitome of what a high elf should be. He was a perfectly normal height for an elf, he was not the least bit rash, and he went about his studies with the utmost seriousness. In short, he was the precise opposite of what Ara was, and he made sure she knew it.

Case in point, he'd taken it upon himself to embarrass her in front of their company during supper. When the dwarves had sat down at the table and had seen the plates of vegetables, salad, and fruit before them, they'd all appeared perplexed. Well, all except for Bombur, who'd devoured his food with such enthusiasm that Ara wondered if he'd paused between bites to breathe. Bombur was a quite a hefty fellow, you see, so he ate anything that was edible (and even a few things that were not). The others, however, merely poked and prodded their plates apprehensively.

"Durin's beard," Oin had said, "what the bloody hell is this? Where's the meat?"

"Meat?" Ara repeated in shock. "As in animals? You _eat_ animals?"

"They're dwarves," Aris said in what you can imagine was a fairly snooty tone. "Of course they eat animals. If you could be bothered to attend your lessons every now and then, you'd know that."

"Lessons are _boring_," grumbled Ara.

"And that is why you'll likely be stuck at your level for the rest of your life, which, in case you're too dimwitted to remember, is a very long time."

He was quite right about that last bit (aside from the very rude comment concerning her intelligence); elves _did _have an absurdly long life. They were immortal, in fact, and could die only of grief, weariness, or if they were killed in battle.

From his spot across from Ara, Kili had frowned at Aris and said, "Lessons would bore me too, I think. Much more fun to figure things out on your own, isn't it Fili?"

"Aye. Wouldn't believe the things Kili and I've learned on our own. Almost died learning them, we did, but, hey, what can you do?" He glanced over at Aris and added, "Dwarves don't eat just meat. We've been known to eat half a vegetable or two…occasionally."

Ori, who Ara noticed had a great appreciation for knitted cardigans, picked up a big leaf of lettuce, and, eying it warily, said, "Not me. I don't like green food."

"Just try it," encouraged Nori.

Shaking his head, Ori gingerly placed it back on his plate. Bifur picked it up a moment later, and, after holding it over a lit candle to roast it, handed it back to Ori with a smile. Shrugging, Ara began to peel an orange in front of her until Kili nudged her shoulder. With a mischievous glance to where Bombur sat at the head of the table, Kili plucked the orange from her hands and asked, "Want to see somethin' funny?"

Ara nodded so enthusiastically it was a wonder her head didn't snap clean off. Kili grinned. "Oi, Bombur!" he called.

Before the other dwarf could answer, Kili hurled the orange. With speed unexpected of someone his size, Bombur twisted his head and opened his mouth wide. The orange sailed straight into in his mouth, some of the skin still on it and all. The dwarves erupted into raucous cheers and laughter. Bombur, his cheeks red and juice dripping from of the corners of his mouth, laughed so hard that bits of orange flew out onto the table.

Disgusted, Aris pushed his plate away and left the dining hall. Ara, on the other hand, was quite impressed. "Can he do that with all food? And what if there's more than one thing thrown at him?" she wondered.

"Would you like to try an' see?" Kili asked, though he suspected that she most certainly would.

He was right. After a quick glance to ensure Elrond was still occupied, she grabbed four flowers of broccoli. She shouted Bombur's name and threw the broccoli all at once. The dwarf caught every single one. This time she cheered for him, too. When she looked over at Kili, she saw him laughing with his head thrown back and his mouth open wide. Never in her life had she seen someone laugh so freely, and before she knew it, she was laughing right alongside him.

"How about something really hard, like an apple? And what if it was thrown from a farther distance? Could he catch that?" Her eyes were gleaming almost manically, and her cheeks ached from smiling.

"Look what you've done, brother," laughed Fili. "You've created a monster!"

Kili merely handed her an apple with a shrug that said, "Have at it."

She relocated so that the distance between her and Bombur spanned the entire length of the table, but right as she lifted her hand to fling the apple, it disappeared. Ara stared down at her hand, mystified, until she noticed the elf-shaped shadow looming over her.

Just like that, her excitement was gone. She sighed, her shoulders sagging in the same manner a scolded child's would. Turning, she said in a small voice, "My apologies, Elrond."

He, Gandalf, and Thorin had finished their supper just in time to catch the tail end of the game Ara and the dwarves had been playing. Clearly, Elrond and Thorin hadn't found it to be quite as amusing as they did. Thorin shot the two brothers a look, to which they reacted by immediately mumbling, "Sorry, uncle." Elrond had glanced down at her and detachedly said, "Aravanna, may I speak with you for a moment? Alone."

Abashed, she nodded and followed him from the dining hall. When she passed Fili and Kili, she noticed Fili had his hand over his mouth and Kili's shoulders were shaking. They were _laughing _at her, when it was their fault she'd started playing the sodding game in the first place. She caught Kili's eye as she walked past, and, in a moment of admirable maturity, she stuck out her tongue. He folded his hands over his heart as if she'd wounded him deeply, and despite her irritation, her lips quirked up in a reluctant smile.

Damned dwarves.

When the noise of the dining hall was behind them, Elrond turned to her and said, "That is the second time today you've embarrassed me, Aravanna."

"I'm so-"

"Sorry, yes, I know. You're always sorry; sorry when you skip your lessons, sorry when you say inappropriate things, sorry when you eavesdrop," he chastised her. "What in heaven's name were you doing in the hills today? You could've been killed, and that would've been on _my _conscience. And now, during supper, throwing food around like some sort of barbarian! You are an _elf_ of _Rivendell_, Aravanna. I think it's far passed time you started to behave like one."

She'd heard that statement from him many times before, but try as she did, she just couldn't comprehend it. What did it _mean,_ exactly, to behave like an elf, when she was so clearly different from the rest of them. Did it mean that if she couldn't behave like them, she wasn't really an elf at all? And if so, then what was she? Was it possible that she was and wasn't an elf all at once? It was a very loaded existential question, and it hurt her head terribly to think of it.

She didn't know how to explain this to Elrond, and didn't want to further disappoint him, for as long as she could remember, he'd always acted as her guardian. She'd asked him about her parents once, when she'd grown old enough to understand that she wasn't his child. He'd told her that her father had died in a great war, and, before her mother had succumbed to grief, she'd asked Elrond to raise Ara in her stead. Ara felt as though she was an unwanted burden to him, and a complicated one at that.

So, out of fear of being even more of a nuisance to him, she replied, "I'll try, okay? I promise."

"Do not make this promise lightly, Aravanna. This is your word, and I will hold you to it."

"Elrond, I promise."

He simply stared down at her, gauging her sincerity. He stood completely still while he did so, reminding her of the marble statue she'd hidden behind that morning. He was certainly old enough to be one; at over six-thousand years old, he was positively _ancient_. He'd seen more war, and death, and change than anybody had the right to. His age radiated from him, from his eyes, to the way he stood, to the detached manner in which he could handle very personal affairs. "Very well," he said finally. "Now, Gandalf and I have been called to council by Lady Galadriel. The dwarves and Bilbo will rest here tonight, though I suspect they'll be off soon. Can I trust you to offer them blankets and whatever else they may require _without _causing a disturbance?"

She nodded.

"Good. Sleep well, then.

"Goodnight."

With that, she went off to search for blankets. The ones she found were the length of two dwarves at least, but she decided they'd have to do. On her way back to the hall where the dwarves were sleeping, she bumped into a certain hobbit. The blankets at the very top of the stack she was holding toppled over, sending him sprawling to the ground.

"Bilbo! Oh, I'm so sorry, I didn't see you over the blankets," she explained, all the while wondering if accidently knocking over a hobbit with blankets qualified as 'causing a disturbance'.

"That's alright, I'm actually pleased I ran into you," Bilbo said, lifting himself from the ground. "You see, I overheard some elves speaking about a garden somewhere near here. I'd very much like to see it, but I have no idea where it is, I'm afraid."

"You'll have to take the eastern walkway and travel a bit down into the valley. The garden will be just left the waterfall," she said while she reorganized the blankets in her arms.

"Thank you very much." Almost as an afterthought he asked, "You wouldn't happen to have an armchair, a stack of books, and a fireplace there as well, would you?"

"No. I can't say we do," Ara replied slowly. "Oh, and Bilbo, don't touch the flowers, alright? The faeries _hate _when people touch their flowers."

"Faeries?" Bilbo repeated incredulously.

"Yeah. They're very cute, but very vicious. Trust me."

Biblo sighed and looked up at the ceiling as if he were saying a silent prayer. "First trolls, then wargs, then faeries. Though I suppose faeries are the best of the three…"

"Trolls?" Ara repeated. "You've seen trolls? I'd very much like to see a troll."

Shooting her a dark look, he said, "No. No, you would not. My poor waistcoat will never be the same..."

With that said, he walked off, his big hairy feet lightly slapping the floor as he went. Ara didn't mind that he'd so abruptly departed, for she'd no idea what he meant by that last statement.

When she found the dwarves, most of them were already asleep and snoring so loudly she imagined the entire valley shook with it. Remembering her promise to Elrond, she took it upon herself to cover each of the sleeping dwarves.

This wasn't entirely necessary, however, for dwarves were stocky creatures, and were built to withstand both cold and heat. In fact, a dwarf's hands were always quite warm; after ages and ages of mining and sword-smithing, their hands had adapted so that they could touch red-hot iron straight from the fire without being burned.

When Ara reached Thorin's sleeping form she hesitated. Unbeknownst to her, two dwarves were still awake, one more so than the other: Fili, who was using his folded arms as a pillow, and Kili, who was sitting up against the wall. "Think she'll do it?" Kili asked, watching as Ara glanced from the blanket in her arms, to Thorin, and back at the blanket.

"Not a chance," his brother answered.

Ara didn't even hear them speaking, caught up in her dilemma as she was. Finally, after taking a deep, steadying breath, she unfolded the blanket and covered him so gently one would've thought he was an infant instead of a fully grown dwarf. She didn't make a sound the entire time, but still, when the blanket touched his chin, he sprang halfway up, fully awake, though he'd _just _been sleeping like a hibernating bear.

"What are you doing?" he growled at her.

"I-I just thought you might like a blanket." Damn her for stuttering, but he was just so _intimidating_.

He blinked at her a couple times, and then, with a curt nod in place of a thanks, he lay back down. The moment had only lasted a few seconds, but Ara was sweating as if she'd just sprinted across the Yellow Hills. Scurrying passed him, she continued to cover the other dwarves.

"She did it," Kili said. "She actually did it."

"Impressive," mumbled a very groggy Fili.

When she finally reached the two brothers, she was a bit startled to find Kili so wide awake. After covering Fili, who'd muttered a muffled 'many thanks', she handed Kili the last blanket. He placed it beside him, leaning his head back against the wall.

"Do you not need one?" she asked.

"I'll make use of it soon, thank you. I'm just not tired now."

She spied the dirt staining his cheeks and his tangled hair and said, "Perhaps a bath would help? I've always found it's easier to rest after a warm bath." She wrinkled her nose. "Besides, you smell like rotting mushrooms."

"Rottin' mushrooms?" Fili said. "S'not so bad. He usually smells worse."

He was promptly kicked in the shoulder by Kili.

"How about you, Fili, would you like a bath?" Ara offered.

"Lass, the notion of moving right now is more terrifying than hungry wargs," he responded, his eyes closed. "Anyway, I don't much like the idea of smellin' like an elven woman."

Confused, Ara said, "You wouldn't have to smell like an elven woman. There are bathing rooms for men as well."

One of his eyes opened. "Again, I don't much like the idea of smellin' like an elven woman. Kili, you go ahead. If you need me, hoot twice like a barn-owl and once like a screech-owl."

"Yeah, yeah," muttered Kili as he stood up. "I'm goin' for a bath, not a hunt."

"With you, those things are equally dangerous."

Soon after, Fili fell fast asleep, snoring just as loudly as his kin.

"Kili, can I ask you something?" Ara said when they began their walk to the bathing rooms. "Is Thorin always so…grumpy?"

Kili laughed, for grumpy wasn't exactly the word he'd use, but he supposed it fit just as well. "He's suffered a lot; it's a long story." Seeing her eyes light with curiosity, he hastily added, "A story I wasn't even born in time to see."

"But you do _know _the story, yes? Can you tell it to me? Please?"

She was practically bouncing in place when she asked. Chuckling he teased, "Bit nosey, aren't you? Alright. I s'pose Balin's told me enough times that I remember it."

And so, while they walked amidst the moonlight filtering through the archways, he told her the story of Thorin Oakenshield.

Long ago, he told her, there existed a city called Dale that was occupied by men. It was a peaceful, and more importantly, _prosperous _city, for it lay before the doors of the greatest kingdom in Middle Earth: Erebor. Thorin was born in this kingdom, and was fiercely proud of it, for Erebor was ruled by his grandfather, Thror. As King under the Mountain, Thror was the mightiest of the Dwarf Lords. He ruled with utter surety, never doubting his house would endure, for his line lay secure in the lives of his son and grandson.

The Kingdom's wealth lay in the jewels the dwarfs mined from its walls, for Erebor was built deep within the Lonely Mountain, and as they tunneled into the earth, the dwarves discovered gold, diamond, emerald and sapphire running like rivers through stone. Still, they delved ever deeper into the dark of the mountain, and that was where they found it. The heart of the mountain. The Arkenstone. Glowing with its own iridescent light, the Arkenstone drew the dwarves to it like a beacon. Thror named it the King's Jewel, and took it as a sign that his right to rule was divine. All would pay homage to him, even the great elven king, Thranduil.

However, the years of peace and plenty were not to last. Slowly, the days turned sour, and the watchful nights closed in. Thror's love of gold had grown too fierce. A sickness had begun to grow within him; a sickness of the mind. And where sickness thrives, bad things will follow.

The first they heard was a noise like a hurricane coming down from the north. The pines on the mountain creaked and cracked in a hot, dry wind. It was a fire dragon from the north. Smaug had come.

Such wanton death was dealt that day, for dragons covet gold with a dark and passionate desire. Smaug decimated Erebor beyond belief, burning everyone and everything in his path with great breaths of fire.

"Not many dwarves were able to escape," Kili finished sadly. "Erebor is lost to us still. A dragon will guard its plunder as long as he lives."

Riveted, the words of the tale echoed on and on in Ara's mind. "And what of Thror and Thrain?" she asked. "Did they survive?"

Kili sighed. "They survived that battle, but Thror was killed in another soon after. Beheaded by Azog, the Pale Orc. It is said that Thrain saw it happen and went mad with grief. You should ask Balin to tell you that story; he was there."

They continued to walk until, suddenly, a thought struck Ara. She abruptly stopped walking and shot her hand out to Kili's shoulder so that he stopped as well.

"If Thror is dead and Thrain gone…that makes Thorin kind of a king, doesn't it?" she said thoughtfully.

"Not _kind of_," responded her dwarf companion. "He _is _a king."

Ara didn't quite understand how one could be a king without a kingdom, but she kept that thought to herself, for now.

"But at supper I heard you call him 'uncle'. If he's a king and has no children, then you and Fili are-"

"Princes," he finished for her. He smiled cheekily, a bit of the shorter hair in front of his head hanging in his eyes. It was a smile not unlike that of a very small, triumphant child, and she found herself again smiling back without meaning to.

"I suppose it does not take much to be a prince these days," she teased. They resumed their walk until, again, a moment later, Ara stopped. "Wait!" she said, and back on his shoulder her hand went.

"Lass, am I ever goin' to have that bath, or…"

Ignoring him, she said, "You said before that Thranduil paid homage to Thror. If elves were loyal to the dwarves _then_, why does Thorin dislike us so much _now_?"

"Because they _weren't _loyal. When Smaug attacked Erebor, Thranduil abandoned Thror, despite their allegiance. Thorin's never forgiven the elves for that." He glanced down at her hand. "Can I ask you a question now? Are you always so cold? I noticed it before, when you fell on me. I thought it might be typical of elves, but I heard Gandalf say somethin' about it later on."

Self-conscious, Ara pulled her hand back. "Er…it's…a long story," she said in what was perhaps the most unsatisfactory response one could give.

He raised an eyebrow. "Only fair, I think."

As you may recall, I told you earlier that Ara had one last abnormality about her, and that it was the strangest one of them all. I think the time has come now to shine some light on the mystery behind this very mystifying subject, and so, here it is: Ara had a very peculiar disposition of always being quite cold. Not cold as in aloof and indifferent, cold as in icicles and winter. It wasn't by choice, not in the least, it was more as though the coldness clung to her skin and refused to let go. It wasn't to an extreme level; she wasn't a walking frost monster or anything of the sort. Still, it was noticeable, especially when people touched her, or she touched them. Usually, she was extraordinarily cautious about hiding it, because the other elves were very disturbed by it, but in all the excitement of the day, she'd become careless.

"That's it? That's all it is?" Kili asked her. "You're just…cold?"

"What do you mean, that's _all _it is? Is it not strange enough for you?"

She'd said it very disgruntledly, and, yes, perhaps she was being a bit overdramatic about the whole affair, but you must understand, the elves saw her as almost a complete abomination. And when one's confidence is battered for too long, sometimes it crumbles and cracks until one's mind fills up with erroneous ideas.

The dwarf tilted his head. "Well it _is_ odd, I guess." Grinning suddenly, he draped an arm across her shoulders. "Lucky for you, I like odd things! Take Bilbo, for instance. He's an odd one, too, and he doesn't seem at all like a burglar, but I like him just fine!"

Ara was so startled that she didn't hear a word he said. Never before in her life had someone touched her so liberally before. The elves, as you can imagine, were not an affectionate bunch of creatures. Not to say that Kili was being _affectionate_, after all, he'd only put his arm around her shoulders, but she was so surprised, you'd have thought he'd kissed her. She thought he might reconsider and recoil from the iciness of her skin, but he didn't seem bothered by it in the least. He just rambled on about dragons, and burglars, and a journey while her mouth hung open beside him.

When her senses caught back up to her she said, "What in heaven's name are you on about? What journey?" It took her a second to fit the pieces together in her mind. "Oh! You're going to reconquer Erebor from Smaug, aren't you!"

Kili scratched the back of his head. "Aye, but could you not tell Thorin I told you? He'd be furious."

She waved her hand dismissively. "You didn't _really_ tell me, I figured it out on my own. Could you tell me more about it though, this journey?"

"It's not _just _a journey. It's more like…an adventure. A quest. An _expedition_, if you will." He told her stories about the trolls, and, wargs, and orcs they'd encountered thus far.

"Wow," Ara breathed. "An adventure. The biggest adventure I've ever taken is to the edge of the Yellow Hills, and that's not very far at all! What happened when the trolls turned to stone? Did they crack and crumble into powder? Are they still there? Will they be frozen like that forever? I wish I could've been there to see it!"

He got a very thoughtful look on his face then, with his eyebrows drawn in and his mouth in a slight frown. It was an expression of utter concentration. "Why don't you come with us?" he offered. "We'll be headed to the Misty Mountains next, and there'll be quite a lot of things for you to see there. I could ask Thorin, if you'd like. He'd likely say no at first, but I'd get him to agree eventually, swear!"

She couldn't lie to herself; she wanted to go. At the proposition, she'd felt excitement light up her belly the way it did right before she went wandering. "When are you leaving?"

"Before morning, probably. Thorin wants to leave before Elrond can ask him too many question about it. What d'you say?"

To say that the word 'yes' teetered on the tip of her tongue would not be an accurate enough description. She'd actually started to say it, but cut herself off midway, so that she emitted a very unattractive choking sound. She opened her mouth to say it again, only to snap it back shut. The cycle repeated again and again until she'd begun to resemble the fish that swam by the waterfall.

"I…can't." The words tasted bitter in her mouth, and she couldn't believe she'd said them out loud. "It's just, I promised Elrond I'd try to be a better elf, and I've got a healing examination to prepare for…again. Besides, I fear I'd be more a hindrance than help. I'm not a warrior, or anything close to it."

After a trek that had lasted four times longer than it should have, they were by the bathing rooms at last. He was regarding her like he was thinking of ways to convince her to agree, and because she thought he _could_, she hurriedly said, "Here we are! It'll probably be empty, which is good, but the water will probably be cold, which is not so good." She shuddered.

She very much disliked cold things, _hated _them even, because she couldn't really feel them. It was a very unsettling thing, to _know _something was cold and not be able to sense it like everyone else could. She also hated very hot things, like fire or hot tea, because there was too great of a contrast between them and her skin, so she burned more easily than others. Warm things, however, she _loved_. She never imagined that such a seamless balance between two extremes could exist.

"Many thanks for showing me the path here, Ara," said Kili, and he even gave her a polite, low bow.

"Is it proper for royalty to bow to anyone? Shouldn't it be the other way around? Though, I don't really think I'm the type to bow…" she rambled.

He'd smiled at her, and briefly she wondered how such a small creature could smile so broadly and so often. There was a loaded silence between them then, on her part at least, because she realized that this would probably be the last time she saw him.

"I guess this is goodbye, then, isn't it?" she told him sadly. "When you're journey is finished, and you've got Erebor back, do you think you and the other dwarves could maybe visit me? Not a lot, I mean, unless you want to, but occasionally…perhaps?"

"O'course, lass."

"Good," she breathed. "That's good. I'm glad. Well, goodnight."

She offered him a little smile, and, because a smile didn't feel like enough, she stuck her hand out for a handshake. He regarded her outstretched hand with an expression of confusion. Unexpectedly, he grabbed her wrist and pulled her into a hug instead. A good hug, too. Not one of those terrible kinds with all the awkward back-patting. "Dwarves don't like handshakes much," he explained. "S'pecially not with friends."

_Friends? _she thought, and she had to swallow the sudden, irrational urge to cry. She hugged him back just as tightly, because this was her first hug and she wanted it to be a proper one, and also because he was just so _warm_. Perfectly so, she'd venture.

When he pulled back, tears were very nearly spilling over onto her cheeks. Not that she was ashamed of it, for she didn't believe anyone could deny the therapeutic qualities of a good, long cry, but there were few things that made her cry, and when they did, she preferred privacy.

"Goodnight," he said. "I'll see you again soon, I hope."

Then, accidently ruining the moment like only Kili could, he began to remove his boots. _Just _his boots, but still. Thinking he was preparing to completely disrobe in front of her she gasped and covered her eyes. "_Kili_," she squeaked. "You're not even _in _the bathing room yet! Can't you at least wait until I_ leave_!"

Kili, who'd really just meant to remove his shoes because his feet had grown sore, blushed. An actual, full-fledged blush that reddened both his cheeks and his ears. If Fili or any other dwarf had been there to see it, their laughter would have been endless.

"I wasn't…I was just…my boots! My boots, only, I swear!"

Still with her hands over her eyes, she scrambled passed him in such a flustered hurry that she didn't realize when one of her throwing blades from that morning fell from her pocket and clanked onto the floor.

"Ara, wait," he called after her, bending to retrieve it from the ground. When he got a good look at it, he wasn't as surprised one might suspect he'd be; he'd had suspicions about her since the beginning when he'd seen her hiding behind that marble statue, and this was only confirmation. "You've dropped something."

"Are you sure? Because I think it's a bit early on in our friendship for me to see you nude. That is, if friends are ever supposed to see each other nude. Unless…they _are_ supposed to? Is that a tradition of some sort? You know, something like, I'm very pleased that we're friends now, how about I show you my…oh, heavens, I don't know much about this subject at all, do I?"

"I don't know how to respond to that, so I don't think I will," he said, still embarrassed, though as he saw her grow increasingly mortified, he became less and less so himself. "Here, you dropped this."

She peaked through her fingers, sighing in relief when she saw he was still clothed. "Don't ever do that again, please." When she saw her knife in his palm, her hands slowly dropped from her face. "Thanks," she said quietly.

Instead of saying anything, he pulled out another one from his pocket. It was identical to the one he'd just given her, save for it was stained with black, dried blood. Astonished, her head snapped up to look at him. "What…you took…how did you even have the _time _to-"

"I reckon," he interrupted, "that you may be a better warrior than you know." He looked at her then, with a seriousness that she wouldn't have guessed he was capable of possessing. "Goodnight, Ara."

Picking up his discarded boots, he disappeared into the bathing room.

She twisted the blade in her hand, standing in the darkness. Clearly, Kili had more confidence in her than she did herself, and not only did he want her to join them, he thought she might be _useful_. That previous excitement and desire returned, burning like a flame in her gut.

She thought about leaving Rivendell for what was guaranteed to be a very long time, and she waited for a feeling of apprehension or doubt to hit her, but she felt nothing, not even a twinge. When she thought of this place, the only memories to spring to mind were those of the impassive faces of elves turning away from her, meals spent in silence or isolation, and lectures. Never-ending, repetitive _lectures_ about how wrong everything she did was. The only thought that kept her from racing to her room to pack was her promise to Elrond. To go with the dwarves would mean breaking her oath to him, and she knew that was not something he'd easily forgive.

Then came the idea of _not_ going, carrying along with it that feeling of doubt she'd been waiting on before. There were just so many things she wanted to _see_, to _experience_. Even the thought of facing Thorin was not enough to discourage her.

She was very clearly ambivalent about her decision, but I'll spare you further details of her internal dilemma and skip right to the end.

After a while of standing in the walkway alone, still turning the blade about in her hands, Ara looked up to where Kili had just disappeared, recalled all the stories he'd told her, and smiled.

She was astonishingly curious, this elf, and she'd decided that an adventure across Middle Earth would suit a wanderer like her just fine.

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**A/N: I think I might change the title of the story to The Wandering Elf. It just seems to fit better than A Tale of Ice and Flame. I'll give you guys a heads up before I do, of course. Thanks for reading/commenting/reviewing/following! I appreciate it! **


	3. Gandalf the Sassmaster

**Just letting you guys know I'm officially changing the title of this story from 'A Tale of Ice and Flame' to 'The Wandering Elf'. It just fits so much better. Hope you enjoy the chapter :)**

* * *

Ara had been packing and unpacking all night. Her bedchamber was in complete disarray, and her thoughts weren't faring any better. What, precisely, did one _bring _on a journey to reconquer a fallen kingdom from a dragon? An extra pair of clothes? Shoes? A sodding _blanket_? She had a few throwing knives tucked away in her shirt, but besides that, she was at a loss.

"Heavens, Ara," she groaned, sinking down to her knees. She dropped her head into her hands. "You haven't a clue what you're doing."

She jerked her head back up a moment later when she heard the door of her chamber start to scrape open. Eyes wide, her heart began to pound with alarm. What if it was Elrond? How on earth would she explain this mess to him?

In a flustered panic, she quickly crawled to her door and slammed her back against the wood. She heard a surprised grunt.

"Sorry!" she called out breathlessly. "It's just…I'm busy. Naked, actually! Yes, that's it. I've just had a bath so now I'm quite naked. Come back later, please!"

The person in the corridor cleared his throat. "My dear girl," a voice said, sounding incredibly uncomfortable. "That was more information than I cared to know."

Ara creaked the door open just wide enough for her to peak through the crack with one eye. The sliver of light that escaped her chamber illuminated a bit of a gray robe.

"_Gandalf_?" she whispered incredulously. "What are you _doing _here?"

He glanced down at her, a long pipe dangling from his mouth. "I thought to advise you as to what you might require on your journey. Unless, of course, you do not need my help. We could discuss it out here in the hallway, if you'd like."

The last bit was delivered with heavy, Gandalf-esque sarcasm, implying that Ara was acting especially foolish. Scrambling to her feet, she invited him inside. After a quick inspection of the darkened hallway to ensure that nobody else was creeping about, she gently shut the door.

"How did you know?" she asked. "I was trying to be stealthy about it!"

The smoke from his pipe lazily drifted up to the ceiling when he glanced at her from over his shoulder. "If you were half as stealthy as you think, you'd still be a great deal less stealthy than you are."

Ignoring her indignant huff, he glanced down at the clothes and random items scattered about the floor. When he caught sight of the dozen or so brown satchels that were in various stages of packing, he raised his eyebrows.

"Did you imagine you'd be traveling with an army of ponies?" he asked. "Or did you think the dwarves would happily lug all this nonsense around for you?"

Shrugging, Ara sat on the corner of her bed. "I didn't know what I would need, so I packed…everything."

"You will choose one bag, and you will choose wisely. It will be difficult enough convincing Thorin to allow you to join his quest without your bringing all of Rivendell with you."

Ara thought he'd started to scowl, but she couldn't be sure since he almost always appeared to be scowling.

"Oh, no," she moaned, her voice muffled, for she'd dropped her head into her hands once again. "I forgot about Thorin. _How _could I have forgotten about Thorin? I was going to rehearse what I was going to say to him, and I forgot! How will I get his approval now?"

"_You _are not going to say anything," was the wizard's immediate reply. "Your mouth moves far more quickly than your mind most times, and that won't be any help at all. No, you will remain absolutely silent and let me do all the talking."

Ignoring her indignation once again, he opened her door. "Come now, dawn is approaching and I do not want you to be left behind. Again, I ask you to choose one bag, and wisely."

Disregarding his advice, Ara simply chose the one that appeared to have the most in it. "I'm ready," she said, slinging the satchel over her shoulder. "Let's go."

Gandalf merely stood in the doorway, regarding her in a way that suggested he was very seriously questioning her intelligence. "Aravanna," he said slowly. "I advised you to make a wise decision, did I not?"

"Yes, and I did! I picked the one with the most supplies!"

"Supplies?" he repeated. "A hairbrush is a supply now, is it?"

She glanced down at her bag, and sure enough, the wooden handle of her hairbrush was poking out. She shoved it further in, ensuring it was completely concealed. "I couldn't remember what I put in each bag," she admitted sheepishly.

He glowered at her. "Do not tell Thorin that."

So saying, he strode out of her room and down the hall. Sparing one last glance at all the things she was leaving behind, she followed. In his urgency, Gandalf seemed to forget that his legs were twice the length of hers, so she was very nearly sprinting to keep up. Her bag felt heavier with each step, throwing off her balance as she ran. It was quite an amusing sight to see, Ara stumbling after Gandalf as she was. Even more amusing was how, when Gandalf stopped suddenly, she was so focused on not falling that she didn't notice. At the last second, she managed to twist and avoid slamming into Gandalf's back, but she tripped over the fabric of his robe, ungracefully landing on her stomach with an _oomph_. Standing up and readjusting her satchel, she noticed all thirteen dwarves and Bilbo staring at her in silence.

Kíli elbowed his brother's side. "Ten gold coins, pay up," Ara heard him mutter.

Smiling, Ara greeted him with an enthusiastic hand-flail of a wave. Then, seeing Thorin's eyes on her, she immediately hid her hand behind her back and took one big step closer to Gandalf.

"Gandalf, what is this?" Thorin said, stepping forward.

"Aravanna will be the final addition to your company," replied the wizard.

Ara would be eternally grateful that Gandalf was speaking on her behalf, for if Thorin were to ever glare at her the way he was glaring at Gandalf, she'd melt into a puddle of terrified, cowardly goo at his feet.

"For what purpose? Are you to try and tell me she's a burglar as well? Like your hafling?" He'd said it with no small amount of scorn, and perhaps it was wrong of her, but Ara found a small, selfish bit of comfort in knowing that she wasn't the only one Thorin disliked.

"Her purpose is yet to be seen. All I know for certain is that Lady Galadriel has given Aravanna her blessing to join you, so join you she will."

"_What_?" Ara and Thorin said simultaneously.

"She did?" Ara asked. She wasn't even aware that Lady Galadriel knew who she was. "Why? How did she even know I was planning on going?"

"There are many things that even I, with all my knowledge, cannot explain, and Lady Galadriel's mind is one of them." Gandalf's gaze shifted to Thorin. "I do know, however, that it would be very unwise for you to disregard her decision."

Thorin's jaw clenched and unclenched while he thought through all he'd heard. When he finally turned his attention to Ara, his blue eyes were so intense and so angry, she wanted to cower behind Gandalf. Quite honestly, she'd very happily climb _into _the wizard's robes if it meant Thorin would just _stop_ _looking at her like that_.

"You, girl," the dwarf started.

"Ara," she reminded him, her voice eight octaves higher than usual.

He ignored her. Circling her like she was prey (which is not too far off from how she felt), he demanded, "What is your weapon of choice? You are an elf, but you do not carry a bow. Sword, then?"

"T-throwing knives, actually."

The dwarf called Dwalin snorted. He was big, for a dwarf, and had tattoos on the bald spot of his head. She'd say he was more intimidating than Thorin, if such a thing was possible. "Throwing knives," he repeated. "What good are those in battle?"

None. That was the point, actually. She didn't want to _be _in battle. If you recall, I told you she didn't have the heart to kill anything up close, and I wasn't lying. Not that she'd admit that to Thorin. Ever.

"What of moon runes," Thorin asked her. "If we were to encounter moon runes, would you be able to read them?"

"Er…no," Ara responded. "I haven't reached that level in my lessons yet."

Next to her, Gandalf released a deep breath, closed his eyes and rested his forehead on his staff. Ara hadn't the slightest clue as to what she'd done wrong until Thorin said, "_Lessons_? How old are you, exactly?"

She peaked up at Gandalf, but as he looked like he might throttle her, she concluded he'd be no help at all. She considered lying, but when she saw the anger stirring in Thorin's eyes like storm clouds, she changed her mind more quickly than she thought possible.

Deciding that lying to him would be like poking an irritable bear, she said almost inaudibly, "Twenty-six."

The dwarves all began to mutter amongst themselves. Ara saw Fíli nudge Kíli so hard he almost toppled over.

"_Twenty-six_?" Thorin said. "Gandalf, you must be joking. I cannot bring her with us. She's a _child_."

"She can take my place," chirped Bilbo. "I'll stay here."

"You will not be staying anywhere, Bilbo Baggins, except for the places Thorin and I guide you." To Thorin, Gandalf said, "Stubborn as you are, you cannot be foolish enough to deny help when it is freely given. If Lady Galadriel believes Aravanna will be of use, then _she will be of use_."

"Gandalf, she is an _elf_," Thorin spat.

"All the better. In aiding you reclaim Erebor, she will be undoing the wrong that was done those many years ago. Believe me, Thorin Oakenshield, the only ill-will to be found here is that which you bring yourself!"

Thorin began to pace then, quickly and purposefully. Finally, when Ara worried he might leave permanent indentations in the ground, he spun back to Gandalf. "I do not guarantee her safety. If anything happens to her, it is your responsibility, not mine." To Ara he snapped, "Keep up or you will be left behind."

He didn't wait for a response. With a shout to the rest of the company to gather their things, he strode out to the front of the group and began to lead them from the valley. With a sigh, Gandalf said, "That could have been worse, I think."

Ara didn't want to imagine how. She followed the dwarves, but upon noticing that Gandalf had yet to move, she stopped. "Are you not coming with us?"

"Not now, I'm afraid. I've more to discuss with the council. There have been…developments. I will meet with you in the Misty Mountains." He placed his hand on her head. "Good luck, my dear. Be careful."

"Aren't I always?" She pretended not to see the skeptical look he gave her. "Farewell, Gandalf."

She sprinted off after the dwarves. When she caught up to Balin and Ori, who were at the back of the troop, she grinned broadly.

"Don't look so excited, lass," Balin said, "This is a dangerous journey, especially for one so young."

Even if he'd said it rudely, he wouldn't have subdued her excitement. She was so filled with it she was practically skipping. He hadn't said it rudely, though, just frankly; he'd merely intended to be completely realistic with her. Judging by his white hair and beard, Ara gathered he was the oldest of the dwarves. Remembering that Kíli had told he was the storyteller of the group, she asked, "Could you tell me the story of the Pale Orc? Kíli told me to ask you if I wanted to know more."

Originally, she'd thought to ask mainly to divert him from the subject of her age, but she found that she was actually very eager to know the answer.

Balin shot her a glance that said he'd noticed her not-so-discreet attempt at diversion, but he answered nonetheless.

"Kíli did, did he?" he said, shaking his head. "It was the battle of Azanulbizar, fought by the East-Gate of Moria years after Smaug destroyed Erebor. We'd come to seek refuge in Moria, but when we arrived, we discovered it had been overrun by a legion of orcs lead by the most vile of all their race: Azog, the Defiler. He'd sworn to wipe out the line of Durin, and started by beheading our King. Thráin, Thorin's father, was driven mad by grief. He went missing, taken prisoner or killed, we did not know. We were leaderless. Death and defeat were upon us."

Balin looked forward then, his eyes fixed on Thorin as he led the company father and farther from Rivendell.

"That is when I saw him," he continued. "A young dwarf prince facing down the Pale Orc. He stood alone against this terrible foe, his armor rent, wielding nothing but an oaken branch as a shield. I thought to myself then, _there _is one who I could follow, _there _is one I could call King. He cut off Azog's arm, and sent him slinking back into Moria. Our forces rallied and drove the orcs back. Our enemy had been defeated, but there was no feast, no song that night, for our dead were beyond the count of grief. We few had survived."

Ara didn't think she'd ever see Thorin the same way again. To lose so much and then take up such responsibility…without intention, she felt herself soften a bit towards him. She promised she'd try to remember Balin's story the next time Thorin was cross with her.

"Balin?" she said quietly, for the dwarf had grown quite somber. "I'm sorry that happened to you."

"Don't apologize, lass," he said, offering her a small smile that didn't quite reach his solemn eyes. "Nothing to be done about it now."

"All the same, I'm sorry still."

She wanted that to be the last thing she said to him, really she did, but there was a question nagging her. _Don't ask it_, she thought. _Don't. He's not in the mood to—_

"What happened to Azog?" she blurted.

The answer didn't come from Balin, but instead from a voice by her ear that made her jump.

"Thorin killed him, o'course!" Kíli said proudly, though whether it was pride for his uncle or the fact that he'd successfully startled her, she couldn't tell.

"Sent him back into the depths of Moria to die of his wounds," Fíli added for good measure.

Ara frowned. Hadn't Balin told her that Thorin had cut of the orc's _arm_. That wasn't necessarily _fatal, _was it?

Right as she opened her mouth to voice this thought, she caught the brothers smiling wickedly at each other. "What?" she said, instantly nervous. "What have you two done? Did you put an insect in my hair? Is there an _insect_ in my _hair_!"

Her voice had gotten loud enough that the dwarves near the back of the company glanced over their shoulders at the three of them.

"No, no," Kíli said to her, after assuring the other dwarves all was fine. "Fíli an' I were just wonderin' when you planned on tellin' us you're twenty-six."

"Oh, for heaven's sake," she groaned. "I'll never hear the end of this, will I? Twenty-six is not _that _young. Most elves are nearly mature at one! Mentally, at least…"

Fíli snorted and Kíli draped an arm over her shoulders. She nearly gagged at the smell of his underarms. Hadn't he bathed just yesterday? Grimacing, she slipped out from under his arm. It didn't faze him a bit.

"It's young, lass," he continued merrily, twisting an arrow about in his hands. "You're practically an infant."

"Aye," Fíli agreed. "A _babe _even."

Irritated, she pathetically retorted, "How old are _you, _then?"

"Fíli's just had his eighty-second birthday, and I'm seventy-seven," said Kíli, and he sounded pretty damn chipper about it.

Dwarves had a lifespan of more or less two hundred and fifty years, so the brothers were young for their kind as well, though nowhere near as young as Ara.

She was youngest of the company by over five decades, she realized with dismay. Younger than _Kíli_. The thought agitated her more than she wanted to admit, so she mumbled very disgruntledly, "Shouldn't the two of you be up front? Scouting or whatever it is that you do?"

Right before they left to resume their positions by Thorin, Ara heard Kíli's voice, again right by her ear. "I'm glad you decided to join us," he said, just low enough for her to hear.

With one last cheeky grin, he was off, laughing and joking with Fíli back to the front of the troop. Watching them go, Ara smiled as well. Her calves were already burning, and she was positive she'd chosen the wrong pair of boots to wear, but as she thought of all the adventures to come, she couldn't deny that she was glad she'd joined them, too.

* * *

**1. I wanted to give this chapter a more serious title, but I couldn't help myself. Anyone else think Gandalf is just the sassiest person in Middle Earth?**

**2. I finally learned how to do character symbols in Word, so now I can write the dwarves names properly. Yay xD**

**3. Even though this story is obviously in The Hobbit-verse, I'm tweaking some historical details to better fit my story-line. It's my story, I'll tweak if I want to.**

**4. School's starting for me tomorrow, so I probably won't be able to update as quickly as I have been. **

**5. Thank you for reading! Feedback would be much appreciated. :)**


	4. Tree Climbing and Story Telling

They walked for days and slept only a few precious hours by campfire at night. Traveling over hills and plateaus, passed lakes and waterfalls, each day felt like stepping into entire new worlds to Ara. Despite Thorin's relentless pace, she never thought to complain; she was seeing landscapes and animals she never imagined she'd see, and though she wished she had more time to commit them to memory, she was grateful all the same.

Often, when she spotted Ori scribbling down notes and sketches in his notebook, she spoke with him. He was quite a scholarly and polite dwarf, and he seemed to know every fact about even the most obscure subjects. When Ara asked him about an animal she was unfamiliar with, he'd prattle on and on, even if she stopped listening. He was a living library, she'd decided.

"You know," she told him once, "if you were an elf, you'd _love _lessons."

He'd beamed proudly and began scrawling in his notebook even more frantically.

When she wasn't speaking with Ori, she often walked in silence near the back of the company. Kíli and Fíli were almost always up front by Thorin. She'd begun to notice things about the two brothers: how, no matter what Fíli was doing, he always watched out for Kíli, and how Kíli seemed constantly to be seeking Thorin's approval. Whenever he did something helpful, like call out a warning or shoot something down for them to eat, he _always_ looked at Thorin, as if he was waiting for his uncle to acknowledge that he'd done well. There were times when Thorin would offer Kíli a small, curt nod of approval, and she'd see how Kíli would stand a little straighter, walk with a bit more confidence.

Ara didn't understand why, but it annoyed her immensely.

She was beginning to dislike Thorin very much, and she suspected they would never get along. She didn't quite know the words to accurately describe their mutual contempt, but luckily I, with my helpful twenty-first century vernacular, do.

If Ara had been born in more modern times, she might say that Thorin was Scrooge and she was Christmas. He was President Snow and she was Katniss. He was a Death Eater and she was a happy, vibrant soul.

In any and all cases, they just didn't get on.

Whenever they set up camp at night, he never allowed her to have a shift on watch, though she had better sight and hearing than any dwarf. When the dwarves slept bunched together for warmth, and Kíli tried to convince her to sleep near them, she'd catch Thorin's watchful eyes on her and shake her head.

For days and days it continued in this manner until Ara began to wonder if it had been a wise decision for her to come after all.

When the sun was setting on the ninth day, their journey lead them into an evergreen forest near the base of the Misty Mountains. They were beautiful, the mountains, with their snow-capped peaks and intimidating height, but she saw dozens and dozens of them in the distance, and she wondered if it was even possible for them to be crossed.

"We will camp here and continue in the morning," Thorin said, dropping his weapons to the ground.

They were in a clearing, small enough that they wouldn't be easily spotted, but big enough for them to rest comfortably.

Immediately the dwarves set off in different directions, each handling a different task. Ara and Bilbo were left standing awkwardly amidst all the movement, for Thorin never assigned either of them a job. Shrugging, Bilbo dropped his walking stick on the ground and sank to the grass, frowning at his blackened feet.

Deciding it was only fair for her to attend to her needs as everyone was attending theirs, Ara trudged into the forest.

"Oi, Ara!" Fíli called after her, a heap of firewood in his arms. "Where are you goin'?"

"Er…I need to…uh—"

"Modesty is wasted on us, lass."

"Fine, then. I need to pee."

He unceremoniously dumped the firewood into the center of the clearing. "Stay close to camp, yeah? If you need help, hoot twice like a barn owl an'—"

"—once like a screech owl, I know," she said with a wave over her shoulder to show she'd heard him.

She ventured deeper into the forest than she should have. Wasted modesty or no, she was _not _keen on the idea of a dwarf discovering her mid-pee.

She was in the process of re-arranging her trousers when she heard rustling in the trees above her. She froze, her hands still on the waistband of her pants.

"Hello?" she whispered, as if whatever was prowling would bounce out from the bushes and introduce itself.

All she heard in response was more rustling. She'd been told once that in situations like this, the most intelligent thing to do was stay absolutely still and silent. She strongly considered testing this theory by sprinting back to camp, screaming. Maybe if she was fast enough—

"What are you doin' all the way out here?" a voice said behind her.

She didn't answer, _couldn't _really, for she was shrieking so loudly that birds in nearby pine trees squawked in surprise and flew off.

"_Shh!_" A hand clamped over her mouth. "It's just me! Kíli!"

It was too late; already she heard fast-approaching footsteps. Soon, all twelve other dwarves circled her and Kíli, weapons drawn. Bilbo burst through the foliage a moment later, wide-eyed and brandishing his walking stick like a spear.

Seeing Kíli's hand over Ara's mouth, Fíli sighed and lowered his sword. "That was nothing like a barn owl _or _a screech owl," he said to Ara. "More like a bloody banshee, it was!"

Ignoring him, Ara glared up at Kíli and snapped, "Werf ou wafin mm _ee!_"

Brows drawn in, Kili frowned, not removing his hand from her mouth. "Sorry? Couldn't quite catch that."

She kicked him as hard as she could.

"_Ouch!_" he yelped, clutching his knee with both hands.

"_Kíli_," Thorin snapped. "Quiet! Who knows what beasts you two attract with all this noise!"

"But she kicked me! In the shin!"

Thorin stared blankly at him.

"The _shin_, Thorin!" Still holding his knee and looking adorably offended, he said to Ara, "What the bloody hell was that for!"

"Were you watching me _pee_!" she accused.

Thorin looked up at the darkened sky and dragged a hand down his face. All at once, he and the other dwarves turned back to camp. Some glared before they went, some merely shook their heads. Ara heard Dori sadly mutter, "I was almost asleep!"

"_Well_?" she prodded, hands on her hips. "Were you?"

"_No_!" Kíli answered indignantly. "I was not watchin' you _pee_. I was scoutin'." He lifted himself back onto the branch he'd swung out of, grumbling, "Thinkin' I was watchin' her pee. Why would _anyone _want to watch—"

"Scouting?" Ara repeated, her anger forgotten. She watched him skillfully climb higher and higher. "Can you teach me? To climb, I mean. I never have before."

Hanging down from a thick branch like a sodding monkey, he grinned. "'Course I can!"

Still upside down, he pointed at the base of the tree. "First," he instructed, "you have to make sure it can bear your weight. See that branch over there? Go on, then. Test it out."

She warily placed one foot on the branch, grinning when it creaked but didn't break. "What next?" she asked.

"That branch there. It's a bit high so you might have to—"

She leapt and grabbed the branch.

"—jump," he finished, chuckling.

Over confident, she reached for the next one with too-eager hands. With a loud crack that echoed through the forest, it snapped. She would've plummeted to the ground if Kíli hadn't scrambled down and helped her right her balance.

"Rule number one, lass. Don't forget it," he said.

With his hand warm on the center of her back, he guided her the rest of the way up. Finally, arms aching and breathless, she made it to the top unscathed. She stood at the junction of the branch and tree, awkwardly hugging the rough bark of the trunk. Kíli crouched down on the branch beside hers. His hair blending into the brown of the bark and hidden by pine needles, he was practically invisible. He gently grabbed her wrist and tugged her down next to him.

His hand was only on her for a fleeting moment, but she felt the imprint of warmth he left there and on her back, and she was surprised by how strongly she wanted him to touch her again. She sidled closer so that her shoulder touched his. Imagining that his heat was seeping from his shoulder and spreading across the rest of her body, she immediately relaxed. She felt perfectly and comfortably warm.

From the corner of her eye, she saw Kíli's surprised sideways glance at her. This was the first time she'd initiated any sort of contact with him. For a second she worried she'd perhaps crossed some type of friendship boundary she hadn't known about, but he leaned into her as well, so that they were both supporting each other's weight.

Satisfied, she turned her attention away from him to the forest. She'd never been that high up before. She wasn't able to see very far out; the trees were much too dense for that, but it was a new point a view and she was fascinated. Kíli watched her eyes dart back and forth, drinking in the sights around her faster than a dwarf could drink ale.

"What are you scouting for," she whispered when she'd had her fill.

"Dinner," he answered. "Trick is to stay really still and then…"

He pulled his bow from his back, and so quickly his hands were a blur, he shot an arrow.

She heard something hit the forest floor with a heavy _thud, _and suddenly she felt very, _very _nauseous.

"I think I saw some berries on the way here," she said, swallowing bile that had risen in her throat. "I'm going to go pick some."

Pulling away from him, she frowned when her usual chill swept across her skin like spilled ink across parchment.

"Alright," he said, scanning the trees for another poor, unsuspecting animal to shoot. "Careful goin' down. Mind where you place your feet."

She almost made it down with no trouble at all.

Almost.

Merely feet from the ground, the branch she was standing on cracked in half. She tumbled through the pine needles and painfully landed on the ground with a groan.

Kíli's low voice drifted down to her. "…told you to mind where you placed your feet."

Wincing at the sharp throb in her lower back, she mumbled, "Yeah, I'm fine, Kíli. I appreciate your concern. It's touching, really."

On her way back to camp, she plucked the dark blue elderberries she'd seen. When she slumped down against a fallen log next to Bilbo, Fíli took one long look at her disheveled appearance and said, "What were you two doin'?"

The nearby dwarves looked at her as well. With a snort, Glóin elbowed Dwalin, who was regarding her with stern disapproval.

Oblivious, Ara announced tiredly (but no less triumphantly), "I climbed a tree!"

"Oh," said Fíli. He squinted at her hair. "Not well, I presume?"

Ara shook her head and a shower of twigs and pine needles rained down.

"She did alright," Kíli said, emerging from the forest with three squirrels in his right hand. "She had an extraordinary teacher, if I do say so myself."

"You're not _that _good, brother."

"Better'n you. Beat you when I was five, didn't I?"

"I beat you once after that."

"My leg was broken!"

"Still counts!"

Kíli handed the squirrels over to Bofur as he argued with his brother about the rules of tree-climbing. In moments like these, when she overheard their easy banter, Ara imagined they were more twins than anything else.

"Ara," said Bofur from over the cooking-pot. "I know your sort likes tree bark and grass and the like, but when the stew's finished, would you like some?"

Though it pleased her immensely that he'd thought to offer, she saw him skinning the squirrels with a filleting knife and grimaced.

"No, thank you," she replied. "I think I'll keep to tree bark and grass. Bombur can have my portion, if that's alright."

"Aye, it's all right!" Bombur said immediately, his pink cheeks lifted in a smile. He rested his hands on his great big belly as if he was already anticipating the double meal.

When the stew was prepared, the company sat gathered around the fire. After helping Bofur pass out wooden bowls of stew to each of the dwarves, she plopped down between Bilbo and Kíli. As she popped berries into her mouth one by one, she noticed Bifur sitting between Glóin and Dori, silently drinking his stew. She realized then that she'd never before heard him speak.

Brow furrowed, she elbowed Kíli's side. She hadn't noticed he'd been in the middle of swallowing when she did it, so she was startled when he nearly choked on his stew.

Coughing, he sputtered, "Bit violent today, aren't you?"

"Why doesn't Bifur ever speak?" she asked quietly.

"He was in an accident," he explained, wiping his chin with his dark blue sleeve. "He can only speak a bit of Khuzdul, but he mostly he uses Iglishmêk."

Seeing her expression he added, "Khuzdul is our language and Iglsihmêk is our sign language."

"Ah," she said, understanding. "Do the rest of you not speak it? Is that why nobody ever tries to talk to him?"

"We do, lass. He just doesn't speak much."

_Maybe,_ she thought. _Or maybe you don't try often enough_.

She thought of Rivendell, of how she'd always sat in silence and how isolated she felt at times.

"How do you say 'hello' in Iglishmêk?" she suddenly asked.

Fíli snorted. "Kíli's not the one to ask. Only Iglishmêk he knows is what he's made up himself."

Kíli shrugged, not disputing his brother at all. "My way's easier," he said simply.

"I can teach you, lass," offered Balin. "If you really want to learn."

Waiting until Kíli wasn't paying attention, she dropped her remaining elderberries in his stew. With empty hands, she turned eagerly back to Balin.

He taught her that her palm had to be facing the person she was signing to, with her thumb and pointer finger bent inward. It was difficult for her to get her fingers to bend the right way, they were stiff, and either pointed too far down or too far up. She sat cross-legged in the grass, practicing the sign over and over again, not noticing that all the dwarves were watching her closely, Thorin especially. When she had it as best as she would get it, she walked over to Bifur. Standing before him with a smile, she signed 'hello' as best she could.

She gathered from his horrified expression and the eruption of laughter at her back that she'd done something terribly wrong.

"No, Ara," Glóin said through his laughter, "Like _this_."

Honestly, she couldn't tell the difference between what he was showing her and what she'd just done, but she tried again. This time Bifur smiled kindly, moving his hands in a response too quickly for her to comprehend. At her flabbergasted expression, he scooted over and patted the empty space he'd made for her.

_That_ she understood.

She sat next to him, and, with translations from the rest of the dwarves she spoke to him and learned a few more signs in Iglishmêk.

After the conversation died down and the crackling fire was the only sound remaining in the clearing, Ara said, "Do any of you know stories? I heard once that stories are often told around campfires."

The dwarves were nearly asleep. Óin, who had the first shift on watch said, "I don't know any stories, but will a song suffice?"

Nodding, she sat up straighter, and in a deep, melodic voice he began to sing:

_Far over the Misty Mountains cold_

_To dungeons deep and caverns old_

_ We must away, ere break of day,_

_ To find our long-forgotten gold._

_ The pines were roaring on the height,_

_ The winds were moaning in the night._

_ The fire was red, it flaming spread;_

_ The trees like torches blazed with light._

_ The mountain smoked beneath the moon;_

_ The dwarves, they heard the tramp of doom._

_ They fled their hall to dying fall_

_ Beneath his feet, beneath the moon._

By the end of the song, the rest of the dwarves had joined in, their voices melding in a low, baritone hum that both comforted and saddened Ara. It was a song of their plight, of their loss, and it was beautiful in a melancholy, morbid way. When the song was finished, the dwarves stared into the fire, their eyes distant. She sat silently as the rumble of their voices drifted up and faded into the night.

She gazed at the Misty Mountains. There was a half-moon in the sky, tinting everything with an eerie, midnight blue. From where she sat she could see the silhouettes of the mountains, fog slowly swirling about their summits. She wondered how long the dwarves had thought to cross the mountains to return to Erebor.

They were wanderers like her, these dwarves, though their wandering was born out of necessity.

"How about you, Ara," Kíli asked, breaking the solemn silence. "have you any stories to tell?"

"I'm afraid not," she answered. "I only know tales of elven history, and I think you'd find them dreadfully dull."

"Could you tell us anyway?" Ori asked, pulling out his notebook.

"Aye, might help us fall asleep," Glóin said with a wink.

She sighed, and because Ori was looking at her with hopeful interest, she told them the story of how the elves came to be.

"The first elves awoke in the First Age, before even the sun and the moon. There were five pairs, a man and a woman in each pair, who were commanded to extend their own lineages. There were the noldor, the high elves, the wood elves, and…" she paused.

"I don't remember the names of the last two," she said regrettably. "Their original names are spoken in Primitive Quendian. It's an ancient tongue, and they didn't live long enough to have their names translated into a more common dialect."

This was the first and only time Ara wished she'd attended more of her lessons. How foolish she must've seemed, not knowing her own history.

"Why didn't they live long enough?" asked Ori.

"The War of Wrath. You see, the noldor, high elves, and wood elves were very subdued, tranquil creatures, but the others…they were volatile, violent beings who were easily spurred to anger. It is said that when angry, they were incapable of distinguishing friend from foe and killed without restraint. They would become so consumed by their rage that they became monsters. They turned on each other and the other elf orders, slaying and stealing. The noldor and the high and wood elves banded together and fought back until they were the only races remaining."

"The elves fought…each other?" Bofur asked.

Thorin's response came faster than hers. She'd thought he'd been sleeping. "Does that surprise you? The elves are notoriously disloyal. You know this."

He didn't say it as an insult, more as an indisputable fact.

And really, what could Ara say to refute him? Thranduil had betrayed the dwarves, her kin had out-casted her, and even she had broken her oath to Elrond the very day she'd made it.

Maybe Thorin was right for hating her so.

"Is there more to the story?" Fíli asked.

"No," she answered quietly, her knees drawn into her chest. "The noldor, high, and wood elves slaughtered the other two races so they could live in peace. That's how the story ends. Goodnight."

When the dwarves clustered together as they always did to sleep, Ara moved to the opposite side of the fire, the furthest she'd ever slept from them. Like always, Kíli gestured for her to come closer, but without a word, she turned her back to him and pretended she hadn't seen.

Shuffling through her bag, she sighed. Turned out, she _should've _packed a blanket. What she _did _pack was three trousers, one left boot, a shirt, and the bloody hairbrush. Sighing, she rested her head on the satchel and closed her eyes. If she'd kept them open a moment longer, she would've seen Bilbo place his bag next to hers, though a bit nearer to the campfire.

They slept side-by-side, Ara and Bilbo, while, on the other side of the fire, the dwarves slept huddled together like the family they were.

* * *

**1. I'm really sorry for the long wait! I blame writer's block and Organic Chemistry -_-.**

**2. I know the pacing is a bit slow, but since the story started off in Rivendell and not the Shire, I have quite a lot of character relationship building/development to make up for. It'll pick up a lot more in the next couple chapters.**

**3. I'm aware that the War of Wrath had nothing to do with the origin of elves, but as I said before, I'm tweaking things a bit.**

**4. As always, thank you for reading, and reviews are always very much appreciated. :)**


	5. Ice Cold Arguments

"Wake up. We must move on."

Ara had never been fond of waking up early, and she was even less fond of waking to the sound of Thorin's voice. With his words echoing distantly in her head, she rolled over, and, curling further into herself like a child, promptly proceeded to fall back asleep.

"Ara." Somebody nudged her shoulder roughly. "Get up. He'll leave without you."

Groaning, she groggily rose to her feet. The sun hadn't even risen yet, she noted through squinted eyes. They were up before the _sun_.

The dwarves and Bilbo were all lethargically lifting themselves from the ground as well.

"I suppose if there isn't any time for breakfast, there won't be any time for second breakfast either," the hobbit lamented, though even without food, he appeared to be more awake than anyone else.

Ara couldn't remember ever waking in such a foul mood. Morning dew had dampened her clothing, the air was so heavy and humid it smothered her, and sometime during the night she'd slid her head off her satchel into a patch of dirt. She felt like soggy, smelly mold, and to top it off, she needed to pee. Again.

Slinging the strap of her satchel over her shoulder, she broke off from the group. She felt someone's hand on her shoulder not even a second later. "Will I ever be able to pee without one of you investigating me?" she wondered, turning around.

Kíli glanced at his uncle, who, as usual, was at the front of the group, ready to lead their trek into the mountains. "We're about to leave," Kíli said anxiously. "He won't wait for you."

"I'll catch up."

His doubtful expression agitated her more than it should have.

"I will catch up, Kíli," she repeated. "I can navigate just fine, thank you. Besides it won't take long. I'd have been done by now if you didn't stop me."

Without waiting for a response, she lifted his hand from her shoulder, and continued into the woods. She was still in ear shot when she heard Kíli call, "Thorin, wait!"

To surprise, when she stepped back into the clearing a moment later, they were all still there, lining up. She quietly took up her position at the back of the group, but she could _feel _Thorin's eyes on her. She should've kept to herself, really it would've been less complicated that way, but she didn't. On top of her foul mood, she could quite honestly say that Thorin had run in patience into the ground.

Matching his glare with a puny, insufficient one of her own, Ara snapped, "_What_?"

All movement in the clearing stopped. Thorin stared silently at her, as if he was silently assessing whether or not she'd been speaking to him.

"I told you to keep up or be left behind, did I not?" he said finally, like taking those three minutes to pee had done irreparable damage to their journey. "We will not be slowed down by an elf."

Ara couldn't recall ever being so angry in all her life. She felt it, her anger, unfurling in her gut and spreading to her head, toes, and everywhere in between. She felt like she was being hollowed out by it.

"Does it make you feel powerful, throwing the word 'elf' at me like it's the greatest insult?" she asked, her voice sharper than it'd ever been. "Thranduil was wrong for abandoning you when you most needed him, and if I'd been there a hundred and fifty years ago, I would have told him so myself. As it stands, I was born twenty six years ago and had nothing to do with Thranduil's decision, so you can take your cavalier, spiteful, _ungrateful _attitude somewhere else!"

This was clearly a very bold thing to say, and once she'd said it, a few of the dwarves glanced away and shifted on their feet, looking very uncomfortable indeed.

Thorin stepped toward her and said in a very low, rumbling voice, "You will not speak to me in such a manner, girl. I am a king."

"A king of _what, _may I ask? Not once have I heard tales of a king with no kingdom!" She wanted to throttle him. She, who abhorred violence and used it only as a final resort, wanted to take Dwalin's war hammer and knock Thorin's stubborn head clean off his neck. "Pride is a wonderful thing to have, Thorin, arrogance is not. And this blind prejudice you have against elves is well passed arrogance and bordering on stupidity!"

"My kingdom was lost because of _you_! Your kind made an oath to my grandfather and you broke it!"

"Your kingdom was lost because of _Smaug!_" she exploded."I hadn't anything to do with it! I only want to help you get it _back!"_

"Do you?" Thorin let out a short, humorless laugh. "You think I did not see how you acted in Rivendell?" he asked bitingly. "How you did whatever you pleased without any thought to how you inconvenienced others, how you placed your kin in danger? You think I did not notice how Elrond struggled to keep you in line? You are impulsive and selfish, and the only reason you are here is because you _want_ to be here, and by some miracle managed to convince Gandalf to side with you. Do not claim to have noble intentions, you will not fool me."

The iciness that usually lingered on Ara's skin began to seep inward. It amplified as it spread, numbing all but the anger that continued to grow within her like a parasitic weed. Her moist clothes stiffened with frost and her breath huffed out of her in blooms of smoke that melded with the fog around them. Kíli was the only one who perceived this, and he'd grown quite alarmed.

"Ara, perhaps you should…" he trailed off, standing between them with his back to Thorin. His face, so often lit with mirth, was hard and serious. It took Ara a moment to realize his severe expression was focused solely on her.

Incredulous, she took a step back, lifting a hand to gesture at Thorin. "You're _defending _him?"

From somewhere beside her, Fíli cleared his throat and said very gently, "Come, Ara. Ori and I need to check the supplies. Join us. Please."

Still shocked to find Kíli staring at her so forcefully, she stammered, "But…but he's _wrong_…" Surely, she thought, she wasn't the only one who saw that.

Nobody uttered a single word. Not Kíli, nor anyone else.

And just like that, her anger left her like a breeze had swept it away. Left in its place was a terrible, deep sadness. She'd actually let herself to believe for a moment that some of the dwarves could accept her in a way that even her kin would not. She'd been hoping she could perhaps slowly carve out her own unique home, where she could finally stop feeling like such an anomaly.

She'd been an absolute fool.

Even Kíli, who she'd considered her closest friend, not just of the dwarves, but of any friend she'd ever had, wouldn't stand beside her in this. Perhaps she'd misunderstood their friendship. They hadn't known each other for _that_ long, after all. In her experience with friendship, she'd clearly interpreted it to be more than it was.

She was doomed to remain in this bleak, solitary place forever. The thought filled her with such a bone-deep exhaustion that she wanted to cry. For once, she willingly donned the stoic mask that elves were so skilled at wearing.

"And there we have it," said Thorin upon seeing her changed visage. "Her true nature."

"My true nature?" she repeated, more to herself than anyone else.

_Could you tell me what that is, exactly? _she thought. _Could anyone _please _just tell me what that is?_

"Ara…" Kíli said. His face had softened and he stepped forward away from Thorin, who was still furious.

Ara moved back, distancing herself from him. For the first time since their meeting, she wanted to be far, far away from him. When she met his gaze something in her eyes made him look away. Very quietly she said, "Thorin, you said we hadn't time to waste, did you not?"

In an uncomfortable, tension-filled silence, they began their journey into the mountains. As usual, Ara was at the rear of the company, further back than she typically was. As they walked, Kíli glanced back at her so often that one might've thought he'd acquired a twitch.

"I'd give her some time, laddie," said Bofur. "Aren't many things more difficult than an upset woman, I'll tell ye that much."

After struggling with his ambivalence, Kíli ignored the older dwarf's advice and dropped back beside Ara. Fíli and Ori had been lingering back by her. Upon seeing Kíli approach, Fíli said pointedly, "Er…I think I hear Nori callin' us."

"What?" Ori said. "No, he's no—"

"Aye, quite certain he is. Comin', Nori! Let's _go._"

With that last word, he practically threw Ori forward, leaving Ara and Kíli alone.

She continued staring forward, as if he were nothing more than one of the trees they passed. She heard him take a deep breath and saw his Adam's apple bob with a hard swallow before he quickly started, "Since we left Rivendell, I know you've wanted to make a good impression with Thorin an'—"

"Me, make a good impression?" Oh, if only Kili knew how terrible a thing that was to say. "I think you're confusing me with yourself! All you've _done _is try to impress him. Heavens, Kili, you'd happily leap into a pack of starving _wargs_ if you thought it'd please him!"

The dwarf ran his hand across the stubble on his chin. He should've listened to Bofur, he thought. "I know my uncle can be difficult, but he's suffered so much hardship. I just want to make things easier for him."

Again, _terrible_ thing to say.

"Oh, and I suppose if allowing him to berate me and hate me for something that happened well before my lifetime would make things _easier _for him, I should just let him have at it!"

To his great distress, she'd begun to cry. To _her _great distress, the streaks of moisture her tears left behind froze on her cheeks.

"What? No!" he stuttered. "That…that's not at all what I meant! I just…he's my family…you just…he's just…please stop cryin'!"

If she'd been in the mood for laughing, she would have found his discomfort very amusing. As it were, she kind of felt like digging herself into a ditch to disappear in forever.

"Do you agree with all the things he said, then? About hating elves and me being impulsive and selfish and inconvenient?"

"No! I mean…I don't…I never hated you…I quite like you, actually…and bein' impulsive isn't a _bad _thing, really…an'…you're not inconvenient. Ara, he's like a father to me. He's my family. You must understand," he finished pathetically.

"I admit I don't know much about family, but I don't think it means you have to say whatever comforts him to hear. If anything, you and Fíli should be the first to tell him only what he _needs _to hear, however upsetting it may be," she said. "For him to say all those things and for you to defend him, _you_ out of everyone…it's just….I'd thought that you…you said t-that we were…friends."

She wrapped her arms around her stomach and looked down at the ground, for not only had she become a blubbering mess, but she'd noticed that up close, his stubble looked very soft and she'd very badly wanted run her hand across it the way he did when he was flustered. And when he'd said her name and asked her to lift her head and look at him, his voice had sounded so deep and so troubled that she'd felt very inclined to forget all that had happened and fall back into their normal way of him teasing her and her asking him to teach her things. And, above all, she could still feel the cold lingering inside her, beneath her skin, and she hadn't the slightest inkling of what that meant.

So, all this being said, she was very understandably knotted with confusion, hurt, and a many other things she didn't have names for, and so she closed her eyes and said in a very congested voice, "Go away, please!"

She sensed his hesitation, felt the warmth of his body hovering by her shoulder, but he seemed to think better of it, and soon he was gone.

"There is a storm coming!" Thorin called out later in the afternoon, when the sky had darkened and grey clouds stirred above like boiling water in a pot. "Do not fall behind!"

Ara wrapped her arms tighter around herself as she followed the winding, rocky trail. She felt as though if she loosened her grip, her emotions would all come gushing out like blood from a gaping wound. She still felt frozen. The chill had breached the barrier of her skin, and as hard as she tried, she just couldn't force it back out.

* * *

**Sometimes writing this story, I wish I could jump into the pages and hit Thorin over the head with a rock until he's not so stubborn anymore, even though I understand why he is the way he is. Sigh.**

**Anyway, thanks for reading and for those of you who take the time out to comment, I really appreciate it. It really does keep me motivated. :)**


	6. Storms and Stone Giants

Thorin was right; a storm was coming, though calling it a storm was a more than a little gracious. It was more like a tempest. A cyclone. A bloody _monsoon_. Whatever monstrosity the thing was, it had awful timing. It hit them when they'd been crossing the most dangerous place of the mountain they'd been all day, where the trail was so narrow that they could move only by sidling with their backs against the stone. The tips of Ara's boots were hanging off the edge of the trail, over what she could only describe as an abyss. Only when the lightening flashed could she what would happen if she slipped, and it wasn't a comforting sight in the least.

"We must find shelter!" Thorin shouted over the howling wind.

For the first time, Ara agreed with him wholeheartedly. With the hair that'd come loose from her braid blowing into her eyes and rain blurring her vision, she was likely to accidently stroll off the edge with one misplaced step. When the wind blew even more rain into her eyes, temporarily blinding her, she instinctively grabbed the first stable thing she touched. She clutched it desperately, but was surprised when it squeezed back. It was Kíli's hand she grabbed. Assuming he'd need it for balance, and remembering their argument from that morning, she loosened her grip to let go, but he held it even more tightly.

He glanced at her over his shoulder, his wet hair sticking to his face. "Everythin'll be fine, Ara," he said. "It's just a storm."

She'd just begun to feel comforted when she heard a deep rumble, and the stone behind her back shook.

"What was that?" she asked, her panic steadily growing. "Did the mountain just _move_?"

"Don't worry 'bout it, lass," she heard Fíli say behind her. "Just focus on movin'."

Not a second after he said it she heard Dwalin shout, "Watch out!"

The mountain quaked with even more strength. Lightening flashed again. Though it illuminated the mountain across from them for only a second, Ara could've sworn she saw something literally _break off_ from the mountain and rise.

"F-Fíli? What is that? What _is _that!"

"This is no thunderstorm, it's a thunder battle!" Balin called. "Look!"

"Well, bless me!" said Bofur, leaning forward over the edge to get a better look. "The legends are true! Stone Giants!"

"_Stone Giants!" _Ara shrieked. She didn't think it was healthy for her heart to be beating as rapidly as it was. Absurdly, all she could think to say next was, "I'm so glad I _peed_!"

At its full height, the Stone Giant was significantly taller that the mountain they were clinging to. It lifted a boulder and launched it. With a crash louder than she could ever imagine thunder to be, it hit their mountain with such force that parts of the trail cracked and fell away. Ara's leg slipped into one of the holes left behind. If Kíli hadn't been holding onto her hand and Fíli hadn't quickly grabbed the back of her shirt…

Well, she didn't really want to think about that.

"T-thanks, guys," she stammered.

Regrettably for Ara, she just so happened to be standing in the most unfortunate place at the most inopportune moment, for a Stone Giant had just awoken, and she, along with the rest of the company, was standing right on it. Just when she'd convinced herself that she would never separate from the two brothers _ever _again, the path beneath her began to crack, with one of her legs on each side. It widened so quickly that Ara's hand was ripped from Kíli's, and she fell back into Fíli.

"Kíli, grab my hand!" Fíli shouted, but it was too late. They continued to separate, Fíli's arm around Ara's waist the only thing keeping her from pitching forward into the gap between them.

The group had been spilt in half, Ara realized, each one on the Stone Giant's _knees_. As the space between them widened even further, she saw Kíli staring at Fíli with wide-eyed horror, his hand still outstretched. This was the first time the two had unwillingly split since she'd met them.

"Oh, heavens," Ara gasped, hyperventilating. "I'm going to die, aren't I?"

"Just hold on to me, alright?" Fíli shouted.

She didn't need to be told twice. She gripped the arm he'd slung around her waist with both hands, ignoring how he flinched when the palm of her hand touched the bare skin of his wrist. She was pre-occupied, you see, for the giant across from them had found another boulder and had hurled it straight at the giant _they _were stranded on.

At this point, most people likely would've shut their eyes and hoped for the best. Not Ara. When the boulder smashed into the head of the giant they were on, she saw every piece of broken rock that showered down around them. When its legs pitched sideways, she saw each of the horrified expressions of the other half of the group when she began to free-fall passed them. She even saw the rock that her body _would've _smashed against, if dark brown leather hadn't gotten in the way. When she crashed into the leather, she toppled it over. The fall knocked the wind out of her, yes, but she was alive.

"_Dwalin_?" She couldn't believe, of all the dwarves, Dwalin had been the one to catch her. She was fairly certain he cared for her as much as Thorin did. "T-thank you!"

"Aye, you're welcome," he grunted. "Now get off, lass, you're freezin'."

She rolled off of him, absentmindedly mumbling, "It's a condition."

She'd survived. She couldn't believe she'd survived, and with only a few aches and bruises to prove the whole thing had happened at all. She was so shocked, she didn't even realize that Thorin, Kíli, Bifur, Nori, and Dori were missing until Balin said something.

"Where's the rest of the group?" he asked.

"Back there," Dwalin answered, gesturing to what remained of the path. "We got separated."

Seconds later, Thorin came rushing down the path, the rest of the dwarves hurrying after him. "Fíli!" he shouted.

Sitting up, Ara saw Thorin wordlessly but fiercely embrace his eldest nephew. Kíli hugged him as well, after Fíli muttered a heartfelt, "Next time I tell you to grab my hand, be quick about it, will you?"

Afterwards, Kíli approached Ara. Upon helping her to her feet, he hugged her as well, squeezing so tightly she doubted she'd ever breathe again. "You let go of my hand." he said, and Ara noted how rough the stubble on his chin felt against her forehead. "I thought…" He sighed and squeezed harder. "Let's not do that again, yeah?"

When he leaned back a little to look at her, his face was _thisclose _to hers, and she noticed something she hadn't before.

"Your eyes aren't brown at all," she said, and perhaps it wasn't the best time for her to point that out, but she'd just very nearly died, and her heart was still pounding, and she was still struggling to breathe properly. "They're green. Like moss. Or bullfrogs. They're very pretty."

With a queer look, he held her at arm's length. "Durin's beard, you hit your head, didn't you?" he said.

"Oh, and Bifur has an axe stuck in his forehead," she continued. "Who knew? I sat with him almost all night and never noticed!"

She very suddenly wanted to laugh, though she knew nothing was funny.

"Fíli, I think somethin's wrong with Ara!"

"She's in shock, I bet."

"We must find shelter," Thorin said again, and resumed his position at the front of the company.

"Wait!" Ara said, when Kíli's hand dropped from her arms. "Where's Bilbo?"

The dwarves searched all around them, some even glancing up into the _sky_, as if Bilbo had somehow sprouted wings and flown off, until Nori cried, "Here! He's here!"

Poor Bilbo had been clinging to the side of the mountain, his cries for help drowned out by the noise of the Stone Giants. Rushing over, Ara tried to grab his hand, but her arms were too short. Thorin stormed back, pushing the dwarves aside, and without hesitation, swung down to Bilbo. One of his hands held onto the ledge while the other grasped a handful of the hobbit's clothing. With help from the dwarves, Thorin boosted Bilbo up, and then was pulled up himself by Dwalin.

When he was safe, or as safe as one _could be _in such a situation, Bilbo stood pale-faced and trembling in the rain. Ara shot him a small, sympathetic smile. Bofur clapped him jovially on his back. "That was close," he said, grinning broadly. "We almost lost our burglar!"

"He's been lost ever since he left home," growled Thorin. "He should never have come. Same with the elf. They've been nothing more than burdens."

"_Ara_. The elf's name is _Ara_," she snapped. The shock was wearing off, and she was feeling quite agitated. She didn't cower this time when Thorin glared at her.

She had _not _left all the lectures behind in Rivendell to only find them again in Thorin now, especially not after she'd almost died.

After a bit more walking, they were lucky enough to find shelter in a cavern. They all piled into it and Ara quite literally collapsed against the wall in exhaustion. "I think this may have been the longest day of my life," she said to nobody in particular.

"Welcome to the company, lass," Óin said. "It's not all rollin' hills and waterfalls, y'know."

She was starting to learn that, and was finally acknowledging the danger inherent in this journey. A little late, yes, but better late than never.

* * *

**Alright, I've gotten a lot of really helpful con-crit for this story and I've been revising the first few chapters. I've realized that there are some parts in the beginning chapters that I want to work on and explore further, so I'm going to work on revising those before I post further chapters for the story. I'm NOT giving up on the story at all, I just think there's room for improvement. **

**Again, this story is NOT discontinued, it's just undergoing some revision.**

**As always, thanks so much for reading!**


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